


When Death gets a job

by immortalbears



Series: One Shots and Standalones [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Thighs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:53:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7292899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalbears/pseuds/immortalbears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(...I mean, Thigh Job.)</p><p>He hated to admit it, but Morrison always knew him so well.</p><p>The two soldiers stood looking at each other, mutually vulnerable. It didn’t take long for Morrison to close the gap, to kiss him full on the lips, to claim his breath. Gabriel closed his eyes and let it happen, but something made him bite down on that soft lip, drawing blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Death gets a job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Numer_9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Numer_9/gifts).



> Leaving open comments on good faith for now, I've never been in this fandom, be nice and don't make me change the settings :p

"Gabriel."

"What do you think you are trying to achieve?" Reaper asked, voice low, gaze suspicious. "Calling me that all of a sudden. I am now death itself."

To think his name was one of God's own. Now, he was barely even human. 76 looked at him - he wondered what that man looked like with his visor off. Was it a visage of the past that flickered back at him? The visage of their past. When Morrison looked at him with those eyes of his.

He no longer did that anymore, not without those red lenses.

He held both guns in an X shape, ready to kill. Erasure, reaping. Crossing out Morris-

...Morrison...

No, he was Soldier 76.

"You don't want this." Morrison said. He pulled off his visor and looked up. "We don't have to do this. When we go back, we can always say that we tried."

Reaper put his guns down.

"You can kill me now. But you won't. If you do, it ends all too quickly. You will regret it, Gabriel."

No, he was Gabriel Reyes then.

He hated to admit it, but Morrison always knew him so well.

The two soldiers stood looking at each other, mutually vulnerable. It didn't take long for Morrison to close the gap, to kiss him full on the lips, to claim his breath. Gabriel closed his eyes and let it happen, but something made him bite down on that soft lip, drawing blood.

"Oh? So that's how you want it." Morrison pushed him against the wall, grabbing Gabriel by his neck.

Gabriel did the same thing; they stood there at an impasse, both of them holding onto each other's archilles heel.

They let go at the same time. Morrison leaned in close again, pressing their crotches against each other, making Gabriel breathe in quiet lust.

He didn't want to admit that he wanted this. He knew now that Morrison would take him and choke him. But would he submit?

"You're not all that you're pretending to be." Morrison said, smiling.

Gabriel looked into that old, familiar face. The corners of his lips had this downward curve, forming into a wrinkle from time. The soldier's stiff upper lip, necessary for battle, must have done that. Still, he hated it. Hated how it had been there for so long, deepening all the while. He gritted his teeth. "I am not pretending to be anything. Thrown into the pits of hell, facing death itself, I have become a reaper to walk among the living, bringing death as I come. The ruler of Hell itself has no dominion over me. You have none, either."

"...Right." Morrison sounded almost kind, as he reached down between Gabriel's legs.

Gabriel looked away for a moment, embarrassed.

"This suit really brings out your assets." Morrison commented, looking at his thighs. "If I weren't so certain you'd try to kill me, I'd just want my head buried between your legs."

"I would crush your skull." Gabriel threatened.

Morrison chuckled. He rested his chin on Gabriel's shoulder and pushed his knee between Gabriel's thighs.

Morrison definitely knew what he was doing. Gabriel let out a quiet, keening gasp, barely able to recognise his own breath. It settled into a deep breathing as he rocked his hips back and forth against Morrison's leg - while Morrison, against his.

"Gabriel..."

They looked into each other's eyes and kissed, again. Morrison wrapped his fingers around Gabriel's neck, squeezing his windpipe lightly. Gabriel felt his vision blur while Morrison worked him up into a hot, wet orgasm.

He breathed in deeply, looking at Morrison.

"You... bastard." He uttered, voice hoarse.

Morrison smiled, and zipped up his suit again.

Was that...?

Gabriel looked down at his thighs; Morrison had, apparently, while choking him, taken his cock out and just rutted against his thigh.

"I shall send you to Satan himself." Gabriel threatened, looking down at his stained suit.

"Or, you can just give me a proper thigh job the next time we meet." Morrison replied, putting his visor back on.

"...I hate you." Gabriel sputtered. "Depraved thigh fetishiser."

Morrison laughed, and waved before walking away.

Gabriel picked his guns up again, putting his mask back on.

Nobody could see him blush now; especially not that asshole.

 


End file.
